The Seventh Quell: Insubordination
by Audio Crossfade
Summary: HERE IT IS: the submit-a-tribute you've been waiting for, eventually co-written by FoalyWinsForever and chickenwinglegolas.  This is CWL's beginning half, Arena One, and it's full!  Which means that... it's FULL.
1. Form

**READ THIS MASSIVE A/N, PLEASE AND THANK YOU! :D**

**_If you don't know the structure these Games will have, please, please, PLEASE read my profile here. It will explain, and PM me any questions!_**

**Alllll righty, everyone! Welcome to chickenwinglegolas' half of the 175****th**** Hunger Games. Here's your form- and I heavily suggest popping on over to the profile of my cohort, FoalyWinsForever, and checking out her Guide To Not Making Your Tribute Suck. Why? Because I may or may not take tributes who 'suck'. And if I do, then you can bet your boots that they won't quite live up to expectations. Literally.**

**Also, remember: This half of the Games is ONLY FOR DISTRICTS 1, 5, 7, 10, 11, and 12! All others are submitted to the other fic, also found on this profile. Also, the slots for the D11 male, D12 female, D1 male, and D7 male are taken. No worries, none will win, and at least one is a bloodbath tribute! Of course, the bloodbath for this half-Games will be extremely small, but it's still worth mentioning. Basically, it'll just be this one tribute of mine, but I still call it a bloodbath because… I don't actually know, it happens at the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, if I have a bad tribute, they might join in….**

**Finally, to conclude this **_**ridiculously long A/N**_**, I will be posting a prologue in the near future, regardless of the tribute list's progress. It'll just be about the President. **

**So here it is: **

Name:

Age:

District:

Personality:

Appearance: History/Background:

Family:

Friends:

Strengths/Weapons:

Weaknesses/Phobias/Pet Peeves:

Reaping Outfit:

Chariot Outfit:

Interview Outfit:

Romance?:

Alliance?:

Token:

Other:

**Also, I will not be having sponsoring in this Games. For some reason, it just gets on my nerves. ;)**

**...Oh yeah. Why is this called Insubordination? 'Cause it's the Hunger Games, infamous for 'unruliness, indiscipline, bad behavior', etc. Plus, it's a fun word.**

**Cheers,**

**chickenwinglegolas**


	2. Tribute List and Prologue

**Wow, seriously? I've gotten about 10 more female submissions than I actually needed... and I still _NEED A GUY FOR DISTRICT 12! _Honestly. XD Just the one guy, _please_. I'd realy appreciate it, and then I can actually get this deal off the ground...**

**Also- I'm going to write the Reapings for Districts 1 and 2, the chariot rides for Districts 7 and 10, and the interviews for- oh, crap. Signature Thief, disregard that PM I sent you, 'kay? :D Anyways, I'm also doing the interviews for Districts 11 and 12. **

**THE LIST THUS FAR:**

**D1**

Male- Fyrian Manas

Female- Marigold Mist

**D5**

Male- Feat Torkyle (Tork)

Female- Naspa Jennings

**D7**

Male- Gage Goerres

Female- Acacia "Ace" March

**D10**

Male- Ermine Vair

Female- Arella Collins (as long as **the author gives me the thumbs-up **for this District switch)

**D11**

Male- Kevin Howton

Female- Jasmine Hollis

**D12**

Male- **NEED! ;)**

Female- Peira Fluin

**Again, my OCs will DIE. Rest assured. :) One'll die at the very beginning, and at least another will die in this half of the Games… they're just here as plot devices- to ensure that your tributes will have a **_**fun, fun**_** time in these Games…. **

**~Prologue~**

President Krasa smoothed back her hair and beamed out at her tense and expectant country. She was a slight woman with deep brown eyes and short, choppy hair that had been dyed black, occasionally shot with a stripe of light blue. She spread her arms and began to speak in a lilting Capitol accent, reminding Panem of the Dark Days. She told of how the Hunger Games were created, and with them the monstrosity that was the Quarter Quells. She reminded the listeners of the past Quells, beginning with the 25th Games, where the tributes were voted on, and ending with the 150th, where 10 and 11 year olds were also reaped. Finally, she turned and beckoned to a young boy in a white suit who is standing just behind her. He stepped forward and opened the lid of the plain wooden box that he had been carrying.

Eagerly, Krasa plunged her hand into the box and plucked out the ancient envelope that was marked with a 175. She delicately slid her finger into the envelope and pulls out sheet of paper. Holding it lightly between her thumb and forefinger, Krasa read out the instructions for the seventh Quell.

"On the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder of the chaos that would reign without the unity under the Capitol, the Games will be in a tournament style. To start, there will be two separate Games, each with tributes from 6 districts. When 6 tributes remain from each, they will be removed from the arenas and brought back to the Capitol for two days, after which time they will all be put into a new, final arena." The hint of a smile tugging at her mouth, Krasa replaced the card in its envelope into the box and said, "There will now be a drawing to decide which districts will go to which arena."

She wondered whether this was a wise move- after all, it was basically declaring the fact that the Capitol knew what was to be in the envelope. Hoping fervently that no one would object too much, Krasa beckoned forward another child, this time a girl bearing a small glass bowl containing slips of paper. Krasa drew out six slips of paper, looked at them, and announced, "Arena One will contain Districts 12, 1, 5, 10, 7, and 11. This means that Districts 9, 6, 4, 2, 8, and 3 will be in Arena Two."

She placed the slips of paper back in the bowl and bowed quickly, beaming once again, as her country puzzled over the Quell. Krasa knew that most people were wondering why this was the Quell, since it didn't appear that the tributes would have that many more hardships than usual. However, Krasa knew better, and though she managed to keep a smile off of her face, the glee was still shining in her eyes.

Across Panem, the fear mounted.

**Yaaay, for my slightly melodramatic prologue! :D I know that it was abysmally short, but it was just to give you some more insight about this Quell. Also, it was (as I've been told) supposed to prove to you that I am, in fact, literate. ;) …And then, there's really not too much to be said about this topic… in Catching Fire, the reading of the envelope was about a page. So. ;)**

**Don't forget to submit!**

**~ta**


	3. Final Tributes

**Yaaaay! I got a guy for District 12! :D I'm very excited, if you couldn't tell. Now I can finally get on with the Games…**

So here's the final tribute list, and I'll start working on the Reapings of District 1 and 5!

**District 1**

Male- Fyrian Manas

Female- Marigold Mist

**District 5**

Male- Feat Torkyle (Tork)

Female- Naspa Jennings

**District 7**

Male- Gage Goerres

Female- Acacia "Ace" March

**District 10**

Male- Ermine Vair

Female- Arella Collins (_**if I don't hear back by the time I do D10's chariot rides, I will give the slot to someone else who submitted right afterwards. Try to get around to it!)**_

**District 11**

Male- Rasch Howton

Female- Jasmine Hollis

**District 12**

Male- Gante Damask

Female- Peira Fluin

**Excellent. So glad that that's out of the way. :D**

…**huh. I feel like there was something else I needed to say, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was… oh well! May the odds be ever in your favor.**

…**which they aren't, but they're better than usual…. Right? Right. And I'll shut up now.**

**ta**


	4. District 1 Reaping

**Alright, let's get this thing started. One word of warning before I start, though: the pre-Games crap will **_**not**_** be my strong suit. The arena will be much better, I promise. :D**

**So here we go, with the reaping of District 1….**

**~Marigold Mist~**

I peer into the mirror and frown. My curly red hair is a bit of a mess as usual. I tug at it thoughtfully for a moment, trying to come up with a way to make it a little more presentable. I frown at my reflection, and then sigh and give it up as a bad job. My parents have already left for the square, and I am supposed to be following them up.

I stroll out of our beautiful house. My family is one of the richer ones in District 1, and so my sister Aurora and I have been reaping the benefits of that all our lives. A lot of people think that that would make us snobby, but Aurora and I know that money isn't always everything.

As I walk through the street, it slowly begins to dawn on me that I'm the only one there. Why isn't there anyone else making their way to the square, too?

Oh.

I hurry into the square and see that it is already packed with people. Crap, I'm late. I'm late to the _reaping_, which can never be a good thing. After all, what would they do to me if I'm called and I'm not there?

Trying not to show that I'm slightly short on breath, I vainly attempt to push my way into the pen of fifteen-year-old girls. They pay no attention to me. I viciously dig my elbow into a few sides, and finally manage to squeeze in on the edge of the pen. I look towards the stage, where the mayor has just finished his annual speech and the District 1 escort is stepping forward.

The escort's name is Mallan Yoth. He is as thin as a pencil and about as emotional. We've been wondering for years how he had ended up escorting a District as high ranking as ours, but we haven't quite figured it out yet. Most people assume that he has important relations somewhere in the Captiol.

I watch him goose-step over to the girls' reaping ball. He plunges his hand into it, and I suddenly find myself hoping that it will be me. I know that after years of training, I am by far good enough with my knives to fight my way to a victory. If I won, then I'd show everyone that I'm good enough to care for myself, and not just feeding off my rich family's influence.

Mallan's fingers curl around a slip of paper, and he yanks it out. He pinches it between his thumb and forefinger, squints near-sightedly for a moment, and then calls, "Rammi Tollem!"

I watch sixteen-year old Rammi's eyes widen. She hurries up to the stage with her head down, and they introduce her. She is obviously not trained, and I can see by the way that she glances around her that's she's desperately hoping for a volunteer. Before anyone else can say anything, I squeak, "I volunteer!"

The other girls in my section turn to stare at me. I have no friends among them, and so I ignore their open curiosity and pick my way numbly out of the pen. I hurry up to the stage, trying to fix my red hair as I go. As I look out across the people of my district, I catch sight of my family. They all look askance at my daring- they had been expecting me to volunteer one day, but not when I'm only fifteen. From what I can see, Aurora seems to be holding back tears.

All of the girls below me are all looking rather doubtful. I check back a wince as I recall the way my voice had squeaked when I volunteered; no wonder they were all looking so pitying. I really hope that none of my competitors will pick up on it, too. Then again, how could they not? It had been quite a Grade-A squeak.

The boys, on the other hand, are either completely disinterested in me- mostly in the case of the older ones- or are looking at me in a very disappointed fashion. That's interesting; I hadn't realized that I had supporters over there.

While I was engrossed in this assessment of my district, Mallan Yoth had announced me and is now standing by the glass ball that contains the boys' names. I stare at it apprehensively, wondering what deadly Career would be joining me in Arena One.

Mallan snatches a name out of the ball and holds it up.

"Vitium Rorn!"

I watch the big seventeen year old's face fall as he realized that he wouldn't be able to volunteer. He slouches up to the stage, and Mallan asks for volunteers.

The moment the last syllable slips past Mallan's lips, there seems to be a collective drawing of breath. However, before a single boy can even begin to say something, a quiet voice flashes into the brief silence.

"I volunteer."

Heads turn as everyone notices that the voice came from the back of the square where the twelve year-old pen is. A small, dark haired boy near the back carefully extracts himself from his stupefied peers and begins to walk slowly yet purposefully towards the stage. The entire square is silent, wondering who this child was. He climbs up next to me, not even sparing me a glance.

"What's your name?" asks Mellan hesitantly.

"I'm Fyrian Manas," the boy replies coolly. The crowd applauds dutifully, and Fyrian turns to me. His brown eyes are frighteningly dark in his pale face. He holds his hand out to me, and we shake. His wide eyes blur across my face, and without thinking, I frown slightly, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. Seeing this, a corner of Fyrian's mouth quirks upward slightly. I'm not sure whether it's meant to be reassuring or not, but whatever the intentions, the calculating expression in his eyes cancels it all out.

Mellan announces us to the crowd, and they cheer. Fyrian looks out at them, still with that slightly deranged-looking crooked smile on his face. I tore my eyes from his cold features and turned them instead towards the applauding people of my District. I try to push a confident smile on my face.

I can already see that this will be an interesting Games.

**Sorry, it was slightly shorter than I hoped it would be. There really isn't all that much to say for the Reapings, though, so you can probably expect that the next chapter won't be any longer.**

**Oh, well- it's quality, not quantity, ay? ;)**


	5. District 5 Reaping

**And here we are! The District 5 reapings. :D Again, **_**please**_** don't expect too much from these; pre-Games is NOT my strength. I'll be writing two chapters of chariot rides after this, which will probably be worse than the reapings, and then two chapters of interviews, which could either be decent or absolutely horrendous… and then the arena. Which, by the way, I have a **_**lot**_** in mind for your tributes already in that place. ;D Unfortunately, not nearly all of it is good for them… but I'll give you my official warning later on. Right now, sit back and try to enjoy my pitiful District 5 reaping. ;)**

**~Feat Torkyle~**

I rub my hand across my buzzed brown hair nervously. My mother is darting around me like a fly, nitpicking at my appearance. I really wish she wouldn't; I think I'm a bit of a lost cause, and all she's doing is making me nervous.

"Mom, seriously, it doesn't matter. Nobody's going to be looking at me anyways!" I complain. I catch a glimpse in the mirror of my dad smirking behind me, and I scowl.

"Of course it matters, honey! What if you get reaped? Then you'd have to go stand up on that stage with everyone looking at you! I think that you'd want to look nice then," my mother frets.

"If I get reaped, Mom, I'm going to have a lot more to worry about than what people think of my appearance," I grumble.

I regret my words the moment that they slip through my lips. I watch as my mother's face whitens. Her eyes widen and begin to glisten. I sigh.

"It's fine, Mom. We both know that I won't get reaped- I'm only on a few slips out of _thousands_…"

My mother sucks in her lips doubtfully, but then her expression stiffens and she nods resolutely. "I know, sweetie, I know."

I smile reassuringly, and she manages to smile back. The expression fades back into worry, though, as she notices a smudge of dirt under my ear.

Finally, my dad and I are waving good-bye to my mother as we hurry down the street. She's very far into her pregnancy by this point, so she's going to be staying at home. As we walk briskly away, I start feeling anxious again. I may have put on a tough face for my mother, but I did rather wish that my shirt at least fit a little better.

When we reach the central square of the city, my dad gives me a quick squeeze on the shoulder before I walk off to my designated area. I slip into the fourteen-year olds' pen and lurk quietly in a corner. I catch sight of my friend, Neos, in the middle of the crowd. I really want to talk to him, but there are too many people that I would prefer too avoid standing in between us.

Finally, the mayor of District 5 stands up on the stage and begins to lecture us about the Hunger Games. I tune out, preferring instead to watch our escort, Hailla, standing behind him. She seems to be vibrating with some kind of manic energy, and it's rather fascinating.

Finally the mayor steps back, and everyone gives him a smattering of polite applause. Hailla zips forward to the microphone and chirps, "Aaaaall right, everyone! Welcome to the 175th Hunger Games! _Yes_!"

We all stare back at her dully. She bares her teeth at us in a smile so wide that it's painful to look at, and then gushes, "And that means that it's time for our reaping! _Ladies_!"

She blurs over to the glass ball containing the thousands of girls' names. She leans over it, smiling, and then plucks a name off of the very top.

"Naspa Jennings!"

I watch the tall, tan girl climb shakily out of the 16-year old's area. I hear a muffled kind of sob come from her twin brother, Ole, who I have sometimes seen around the district but have never spoken to. Naspa walks softly up onto the stage and looks piteously at her crying family. Hailla bubbles an introduction, and then asks, "Are there any volunteers?"

I can see the hope in Naspa's pretty face from where I'm standing, much as she tries to hide it. When no one says a word, I watch as a desperate kind of sadness creeps into her eyes. I feel the urge to call something out to her, but I don't know what, and so I hold my tongue.

Hailla, untouched by any of this, bounces over to the boys' reaping ball and unceremoniously snatches out a name. I'm still caught up in my pity for Naspa, and I don't hear what she calls out at first. However, it is only a moment later that I hear Jennings, one of the boys my age whom I have to live in constant fear of, begin to laugh.

"Jeez, _dork_! Don't you even know you name? Huh, _dork_?"

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Jennings really has no imagination. Of course, neither do I, apparently, because I've never been able to come out with a suitable comeback…

I shake my head and look around. Everyone really is staring at me; what's going on?

Finally, Neos catches my eye and jerks his head at the stage. My eyes widen, and I say loudly, "_Me_?"

The crowd titters, and I flush. Tightening my jaw, I hasten to the stage and walk up to Hailla, who forces her cheeks up into a smile that entirely hides her eyes. Unnerved, I walk to the front of the stage. Hailla calls out a request for volunteers, but no one says a word. I didn't expect them to. Instead of wasting my time hoping, I instead seek out my father.

It was a bad idea, really. My heart clenches up when I catch sight of him. He has let his stone mask that he wears in public slip, and I can see the heartbreak written all across his face.

Swallowing, I turn to look at Naspa. I hold out my hand to her, and we shake. I can see the hesitation in her eyes as she looks at me. I know why; my features always seem to make me appear as a bit of a dull brute to strangers. I give her the best smile that I can, however, and I see some of her doubt fade away. I'm glad; I would love to have an ally in the arena, and Naspa looks like she could use a friendly companion.

We both turn out to face the crowd. They applaud, even though I can see the slight disappointment in their faces. They were all hoping for a victor, and I can tell that their hopes have been dashed.

Mine haven't, though. Naspa's face has darkened with a kind of dangerous determination, and as for me- I know that I'll be coming home.

After all, I'll be a big brother in a few weeks.

**...Yes, even shorter than before! XD Oh well. The rest of the pre-Games crap will probably just get progressively shorter, as I get more and more fed up with it… but the arena will break that trend. Promise. :) **


	6. District 7 Opening Ceremonies

**I know that it's been... what, a week and a half? Two weeks?... whatever. Point is, I started writing this little deal a week ago... and now here it is. Updates _will _be a tad slow sometimes (I spare you from a rant about how much school is killing me), but they'll come. Patience. :)**

**Anyways.**

**...Wow, OK, seriously? District 7 here is just plain messed up. XD I was looking over Ace's profile, and then reviewing my own OC, and… good **_**lord**_**, are they a pair of psychos.**

**~Acacia March~**

I look in the mirror, expressionless. I am dressed in a strapless dress made of bark with fall leaves on the hem. My stylist, McKenzie Azul, has smeared mud down my arms. It's apparently artistically done, but somehow the word 'artistic' just doesn't have anything to do with mud in my mind. Then again, this is the Capitol we're talking about here.

We're also talking about McKenzie Azul. I spin on my heel to stare at her. She smiles her neat little smile at me, and says, "Isn't it _perfect_?"

I say nothing. In truth, the costume is not at all bad compared to ones I've seen; at least I'm not just a tree. Then again, 'perfect' is a term that I have to take with a grain of salt coming from a woman who is so blue that it makes you feel like you need your vision checked.

The outfit isn't all that bad, really; it just doesn't seem to… _fit_ me. Not in the literal sense, of course- the thing fit like it was made for me. Which I suppose would make sense, since it _was_…. But there was something about the whole idea of this little dress with its pretty little leaves that just wasn't me. It just contrasted far too much with my muscular build, my scar, and my missing finger…. And as for my dreams of killing and revenge? It made it almost laughable. Except that, you know, I never laugh.

After a few heartbeats of silence from me, McKenzie nods cheerily and says, "Good, that's what I thought." She sighs deeply, and runs a hand dramatically through her blue hair. "I had to come up with this costume all on my own, you see. I had no help at all from Brill."

Despite myself, I'm curious. Brill must be the stylist for my district partner, and I've hardly ever seen costumes that didn't match in at least some way. "Why? Doesn't my costume correlate with Gage's?"

McKenzie shook her head wistfully. "Not at all. Brill wouldn't actually tell me what she's dressing him in… all I know is that it doesn't have anything to do with lumber." She purses her lips thoughtfully for a moment, and then gives a wry grin and says, "I suppose she figured that Gage was too pretty for lumber."

Unfortunately, I have to say that the unknown Brill would be right in this case. After my name was called at the reaping, I had been sort of zoning out on the stage, fantasizing about killing whatever District 9 girl was reaped as revenge for my sister Laurel. When a deep voice asked me if I was going to shake hands or not, I had whirled around to face the most gorgeous person I've ever met. Not that I was interested in guys- I'm not interested in people in general, really. Even I have to admit, though, that Gage Goerres is quite a specimen.

Of course, he also happens to be absolutely insane. Yay, company.

Finally, we leave and descend to the lowest level of the Remake Center. It's like a huge stable down there, filled with all the tributes, their stylists, and the elegant chariots with their teams of horses. McKenzie guides me to the District 7 chariot, which is a pleasant green color. I have just climbed up on to it when I catch sight of Gage striding towards us. I raise my eyebrows coldly.

True to McKenzie's word, Gage's outfit has nothing to do with the district at all. Instead, he's wearing a jacket that's almost cream-colored with a snow white shirt underneath and black dress pants. His red brown hair has been spiked gently, and there is hardly any makeup on his tan face. He jumps easily up besides me and smirks down at me. I can see the laugh in his dark eyes even behind the purple-tinted glasses that he's wearing. He tugs ruefully at his bowtie and says, "Different, isn't it?"

I nod stiffly. Really, Brill would probably be ridiculed by her fellows had it been anyone but Gage that she was dressing.

He grins easily again, and I frown. I can tell that he's laughing at how ridiculous my outfit is on me, but I pretend not to know. "What?" I snap.

Gage just gives me a look, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses. Then the smile reappears in them- though not on his face- and he says, "You look stupid."

Affronted at his frankness, I turn away. Everyone is ready on their chariots now, and there's a sense of nervous excitement in the air. At least, there is everywhere else in the room; our chariot has a totally different feel to it. Gage is ignoring me now, and is staring at the floor, rubbing his thumbs against his index and middle fingers. I wonder briefly what's wrong with him, and then turn my attention back to what's coming. McKenzie told me to 'shower the crowd with love', and I'm determined no to. I get my game face on as the doors open and chariots begin to roll.

We're carried out into the street, which is full of screaming Capitol citizens. I stare forward, occasionally glaring at the people beneath me. After a moment, my eyes slide sideways to see what Gage is doing. He's sweeping the crowd with his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. We pass a group of teenage girls and he grins slowly at them. They scream in appreciation, and Gage turns away. I catch a glimpse of his eyes as he looks to the other side of the street, and I can see the unbridled hate for where he was in them.

Finally, we reach the City Circle. President Krasa steps out onto her balcony and delivers the official welcome. I gaze around, playing a game with myself. I pick a random citizen, and see how long I have to stare at them before they move away.

Finally, the national anthem plays, and the television screens show the cameras cutting around to each of the tributes' faces. I can feel a really stellar glare coming, but when the District 7 chariot is shown, Gage is in the middle of the screen and you can only see half of my face. Somehow, lacking the other half of my face sort of ruins the effect of my glare.

The horses begin to move again. They bring us one more time around the circle, and then carry us away into the Training Center. As we enter, I turn around to watch the doors close behind the District 12 tributes. I swallow. The Capitol isn't quite the same as my beautiful District 7, but at least it has fresh air. Now I'm a prisoner in this building, and the next time I get to be outside could quite possibly be my last.

**Aren't these two going to be a blast? XD They're both so freaking _mental_. Luckily they're a tad different- I don't know if you gleaned it from the chapter, but I'm writing Ace as a more fiery and raging psycho, and Gage as a cooler and more assassin-style one. Yay.**

**So yeah, please tell me what you think. Chariot rides are no fun. D:**

**...At least, chariot rides wouldn't be fun if I weren't playing with such a pair of crazies. )**

**Cheers!**

**chickenwinglegolas**


	7. District 10 Opening Ceremonies

**I know, this one was a bit of a shortie. So sorry. There's just really not a whole lot to be said for the chariot rides. :)**

**~Ermine Vair~**

My stylist, Jaren Lott, flits around me. He picks at my suit, frowning. He grabs my shoulders, looks at me, and scowls again. He brushes the slightest bit of hair into place, and then smiles. "There. You're lovely, Ermine!"

Wow. 'Lovely' is really _not_ what I had been hoping for.

Jaren grabs me again and hauls me over to a nearby full-length mirror. He places his thin face right over my shoulder and smiles as wide as was physically possible.

…No, wider.

I can't see what he is so happy about. I'm dressed in a white jumpsuit- a _sparkly_ white jumpsuit- that is decorated with deep blue rhinestones and swirls of glitter, which Jaren has told me are supposedly constellations. I suppose it is rather dapper in its way, but it wasn't quite what I had been expecting. I consider this for a moment, and then smile wryly. I suppose that I'm not so bad off; now that I think about it, I had been expecting a cow.

Seeing my smile, Jaren takes it the way that he wants to and beams. "You'll be absolutely _stellar_!" he squeals.

I hesitate, wondering whether this is supposed to be a pun using the glitter swirls, and then plow onwards. "What'll Arella be wearing? Something similar?"

Jaren's scowl returns. "No, I think not. Mayar decided that he wanted to go with something more District-related." He rolls his eyes, and it is quite apparent what his opinion is on this. I suppose that he thinks District 10's industry just isn't interesting enough for the Capitol fans.

Giving one last shake of his head, Jaren sweeps me from the room. We meet up with my District partner, Arella Collins, and her stylist Mayar on the way down to the lower level. Arella has her auburn hair done up in a simple yet elegant knot, and is wearing a silky, tight-fitting dress covered with cow spots. It's a little strange, but at least it's reasonably attractive, unlike the usual cow suits.

She raises her eyebrows when she sees my glittering outfit, and I grin. I'm looking for an ally, and I'm thinking about Arella. As we walk into the area with the chariots, though, I take in her slight build and figure that if I can get a better ally, I ought to do it.

The room that we walk into is huge and full of excited people and stamping horses. Arella heads straight to our chariot, but I wander off towards the chariot of our only Career district. There is a small boy sitting on it, swinging his legs. I frown at him, and he just looks at me as though sizing me up. Finally, he gives a little smile and turns away. Rather confused, I look past him and see his curly haired district partner staring at me. She blushes when our eyes meet, and gives a little wave before turning away. I spin on my heel and walk back to my chariot quickly.

Well. Looks like I might have found a possible ally there who is presumably a good fighter. Might have found a bit more than an ally, actually, but…. I think that I'll be able to throw her away quite quickly when I need to.

The doors to the street open just as I scramble up onto our chariot. We roll out, and the roaring of the crowd hits me with an almost physical force. Beside me, Arella is waving and grinning. She seems to be in her element here, and the people in the crowd can tell it. They're all waving to her. I watch for a moment, mesmerized, before I realize that I really ought to be doing the same thing.

I tilt my chin up the slightest bit, brush back my white-blond hair, and I smile. It's not a huge grin like Arella's, but more of just a knowing, confident little thing. I catch the eyes of a few people in the crowd, and I give them a small, sly grin. They begin to notice me, and I catch a quick glimpse of myself on a huge television screen. I look much more dashing than I originally thought I did, and it gives me another confident boost that carries through all the way until we reach the City Circle. There our chariots halt, and President Krasa steps out to give an official welcome.

I take the opportunity to gaze around at the other tributes. In front of us, the outfits of the two District 7 tributes seem to be clashing almost more than ours do. I smirk and crane my neck to look back at District 11. The girl, a pretty girl with beautiful dark hair, is clothed in a dress that I feel is supposed to resemble a banana, representing the district's fruit industry. I look over at her partner, a dark-haired boy, and I stare. He's dressed as an orange, and is gazing around quite absent-mindedly. As I watch, he raises one leg up behind him and tries to balance on one foot. He's not very good at it, and has to hop around bizarrely. The girl looks faintly embarrassed.

I hear Krasa's speech conclude behind me, and I turn back around. The chariots parade once more around the circle, and then turn in to the training Center. The moment the doors close behind us, I turn to slowly get off the chariot. I'm taking my time, looking around, and I hear a huff of impatience behind me. Arella leaps of the side of the chariot and speeds away. I watch her go, amused. Just from what I've seen of tributes tonight, I can tell that this will be a fun Games. Especially when I win.

**Ah, so glad those are over. :) Now for interviews, yay… for the authors that have their tributes in one of those, I'm really sorry if I screw them up. It'll be pretty tricky not to. Then again, you entrusted them to me, so I take them where I take them, and you're just along for the ride. ;) **


	8. District 11 Interviews

**Hey, OK, time for the last segment of pre-Game! Interviews… of course, I'm starting to think that they're the most complicated bit. To the two authors that have their characters interviewed- I apologize in advance, and please don't eat me. Thank you.**

**~Jasmine Hollis~**

I shift slightly, examining myself in the mirror from all angles. I'm dressed in a halter-neck dress that seems to be made of white petals, and has a yellow center. It's supposed to mimic the flower that I'm named after. It's very pretty, and I feel a little more confident.

This surprises me a little. I've never really had a problem with confidence before. Then again, I suppose that this is the first time that I've ever been presented with the opportunity to make a fool of myself in front of every single person in Panem.

I give a short sigh through my nose. My stylist, Ranan, appears at my side, his impish little face squinched up with worry. "Does it look all right, Jasmine?"

I turn to him. He's so small that I have to bend my neck to look down at him, and it's a little awkward. "It's great, Ranan, thank you. It's just what I need."

Ranan shows his teeth, which seems to be his form of smiling. "Thank you, Jasmine! That's what I'd been hoping for. Now we'd better hurry, because I'm sure that Kwillis has already finished with Rasch."

I swallow and nod, rallying my courage. Ranan gives me one last encouraging grimace, and then we head out to the elevator.

There we meet my district partner, Rasch Howton, his stylist Kwillis, and his prep team. Kwillis and her team are all bubbling with manic excitement, but Rasch isn't joining in. He's wearing simple black tux- apparently Kwillis doesn't have too much imagination. Then again, she may also have just wanted to tone it down after his orange costume from the opening ceremonies.

Once we've all piled out of the elevator, Rasch and I join the line of tributes waiting to be taken up to the stage. I stand between Rasch and the strange blonde tribute from District 10. He doesn't seem very social at the moment, so I turn back to look at Rasch. He has his back turned to me and is staring openly at the girl behind him. I crane my head back to look at her. Besides the random leather tricorn hat that seems a little out of sorts with her dress, there's nothing that's all that fascinating. I shrug and turn back around as the tributes shuffle out on to the stage and takes their seats.

The female tribute from District 1 steps up and begins her interview. Not listening at all, I watch the interviewer, whose name is Cella Demmer. She's tall and slender with electrically blue eyes, purple hair, and golden designs stenciled all over her body. Looking at the odd assortment of colors, I wonder vaguely whether she's colorblind.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the interview. I blink. It seemed very fast; maybe it will go that way for me.

I try to pay attention as the young boy from District 1 sits down. He's cold and sharp, and it seems to put Cella off. District 5 flashes by; the boy manages to draw a few laughs off the crowd. District 7's interviews get everyone trading sideways glances with their neighbors; both tributes are obviously a little funny in the head. The girl, who I think is called Ace, is blunt and angry the entire time. The boy acts cool and unconcerned, and manages to put Cella on the spot a few times. I think she's glad to be rid of them.

By the time the District 10 girl steps up, I'm zoning out again. I panic as her buzzer goes off, and I scramble for coherent thoughts. Mysterious. My mentor told me to be mysterious. I can do that, right? _Right_.

Far too soon, the blonde boy's interview is over. There is applause, and I rise. I stride quickly across the stage, feeling as though I will be bowled over by the intensity of the thousands of stares fixed on me.

I sit down carefully, and Cella smiles at me. "So, Jasmine Hollis! How's the Capitol treating you, hm?"

I lean back and try to look nonchalant. "Not bad, not bad. The food's certainly good, and the people are very… _interesting_."

I don't think that Cella quite catches my meaning there, because she beams. "Excellent. Glad to hear it. Your time here's nearly up, though; the arena is just around the corner. Are you ready?"

I breathe in deeply through my nose and let it out slowly. I smile slightly, and I say smoothly, "Oh, I think I am. But I mean, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

Cella raises her eyebrow, and says, "Of course. But do you not have any strategies or strengths to give you a leg up?"

I give a light, lilting laugh. "Telling you my strategies would be silly! The other tributes are sitting right behind me, aren't they?" I flick my head carelessly back towards them, and continue. "My strengths… well, I suppose that my… past… gives me a leg up."

I wanted to avoid mentioning my past, but I think that I made the right decision here. The audience is waiting with bated breath. Cella, knowing that my time is running out, leans in quickly. "Your past? And what would that be?"

I glance out across the City Circle, and then I look back at Cella with a knowing, mischievous look in my eyes. "But Cella, it's _all_ part of the mystery."

The buzzer rings, and I get up shakily. The people of the Capitol applaud me, and I try not to stumble as I go back to my seat. My fellow tributes all look at me warily, and I smile to myself. Maybe I _can_ pull off mysterious.

I stew for a moment, and then I hear Cella introducing Rasch. I shake myself mentally, and try to pay attention.

Rasch is sitting on the edge of his seat, gazing out across the City Circle. Cella, all smiles, says, "Well, Rasch. How are _you_ feeling about being here?"

Rasch doesn't answer for a moment. Cella growls, "_Rasch_."

Rasch just looks at her for a moment, and then says thoughtfully, "About being reaped? About the Hunger Games? Um… well. I don't really want to die all that much…." He trails off, and goes back to staring at the crowd.

A small frown flits across Cella's face, and then she hitches her smile back on to her face. "Well, I sure hope not! But maybe you'll win, hm?"

Rasch yawns. He sniffs loudly, and then frowns. He says slowly, "Oh. Yeah. I guess I could… but… I don't think I will."

Cella says encouragingly, "don't be too downhearted, Rasch! You must have strategies, right? How do you think you'll go about winning?"

Rasch ponders this for a moment, and then replied, "I think that I could win… if… I _flew_ away from the tributes. Would that work?"

Cella hesitates, and then gives a kind of cheerful grimace. "Yes. Unfortunately, I don't think that that'll work, unless the Gamemakers have something _really_ special planned!" She opens her mouth to say more, but then the buzzer goes off. "Oh, dear, Rasch! Our time is up. Have the best of luck in the Games tomorrow!"

Rasch doesn't even acknowledge her. Instead, he gets up, walks to the edge of the stage, and cups his hands around his mouth. "Ma'am!" he calls out, "I think that your hat is objecting to you!"

A horrified woman in the crowd clutches her hat to head. I think I sort of see what Rasch is referring to; the hat is of some strange Capitol design, and almost looks like it's flying away. The crowd titters, and Cella gets up and tells Rasch to go sit down.

He comes back and throws himself down in the seat next to me. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but he's staring out into nothingness again. I shrug, and turn to watch the District 12 girl with the funny hat sit down with Cella.

After the interviews, we all ride the elevators back up to our respective floors. When we reach ours, everyone congratulates me and tells me that I pulled off my angle quite well. No one really says anything to Rasch, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he's just joining right in with everyone else, talking animatedly to me.

We all sit down to eat a delicious Capitol dinner. I eat some of everything, but the knowledge that it's my last dinner before the arena makes it all sort of taste like carpet.

After eating, we go to a sitting room to watch the replays. I feel a little hope burgeoning in my chest as I watch myself shoot out the tantalizing comments and furtive looks. Maybe I really will manage some sponsors.

Rasch's performance, on the other hand, would be comical if it weren't for the possibility that it had condemned him to death. The entire time Cella is talking to him, he's looking around aimlessly, and when he gets up to yell about the hat, the cameras all zoom right in on him. Poor fellow. I glance over at him, and he's frowing at the screen. Maybe the seriousness of it has hit him.

Not that it matters. For Rasch, and for me, and all the rest of the tributes, it's far too late.

**Yaaaay, ONE MORE CHAPTER before the arena! :D I hope you enjoyed this one… Interviews are a little difficult, though, because I have to make the tributes cover themselves with a performance, but still let the readers know who they really are…. So tell me how I did, please, and thank you!**

**Cheers!**

**~chickenwinglegolas**


	9. District 12 Interviews

**Sorry it took a little while, but school demands my attention…. But here we are with the final pre-Game chapter! **** District 12… I'm afraid that I am very fed up with pre-Game (especially interviews, and I've only done one before this), and so… yeah. This promises to be a rather boring chapter. That's all right, though, because you can bet your boots there'll be action aplenty after this. ;) Oh, and after this chapter, PLEASE READ the author's note at the bottom of the page! Thanks! **

**And so….**

**~Gante Damask~**

I shiver nervously as I peer at my reflection in the mirror. I am dressed very simply in a dark suit that really draws no attention. I briefly wonder whether that might bring down my sponsor numbers… but then again, I'm not entirely sure that I would be all that attention-grabbing _anyways_.

I can always try, though. As my stylist, Firenna, ushers me quickly from the room so that we can meet the others by the elevator, I run my plan through my mind. It's not anything extremely spectacular, but it ought to do. I'll just be focusing on _not_ coming off as twitchy, and instead trying to be boisterous and energetic. It might be a bit of a stretch, but I'm sure I can handle it….

Firenna and I finally arrive at the elevator. We wait for a moment in an awkward silence, until a loud whoop sounds from behind us. I turn in time to catch a glimpse of a blur of dark movement before I'm being throttled and shaken. I have barely squeaked out a protest before I am released. My district partner, Peira Fluin, grins at me. She's clothed in a shimmering black dress, and her dark, choppy hair has been let down. Of course, the latter is probably due to her hat… _the_ hat. From the moment I met her, Peira has constantly been wearing a certain leather tricorn hat that she says came from her father. Her stylist let it slide for the chariot rides, but I definitely assumed that he would insist on her taking it off for the interviews. Obviously, I had been mistaken.

As this runs through my mind, I see the said stylist, Mork, come slouching down the hall after Peira. His deep purple hair is in complete disarray, and there is a grim scowl on his face that dared anyone to talk to him. No one did.

Peira, on the other hand, was glowing. She seemed to be as much in her element here as I _wasn't_. She hums under her breath the whole elevator ride down, and springs out the moment the doors open. I creep out behind her, much more wary. The other tributes are all standing in a line, waiting to be let on to the stage. We join them, and I am left standing at the very back behind Peira. It then strikes me that I'll be the last tribute to be interviewed. Oh, boy, this could either be really good… or really, really bad.

Mulling over my unpleasant-looking future, I try to gain some confidence. I watch Peira; she's shaking with silent laughter over the District 11 boy who keeps staring at her. I don't really feel much like smiling at all, and so I look farther up the line for a model. The District 10s catch my eye; the boy is standing ramrod straight, and the girl is looking around easily. I try to straighten up like the boy, but the girl catches my eye. She gives me a reassuring smile before turning around to follow District 7 on to the stage. I swallow, and follow suit.

We all sit down in our designated chairs, and I blink in the brightness of the lights. I look out over the City Circle… bad idea. The crowds are _huge_. The circle is simply filled with a mass of Capitol oddities, and the camera lenses winking everywhere tells me that millions more are watching as well. I catch a quick flash of my face projected onto the giant television screens around the circle as they pan around the tributes. My heart begins to thump painfully as the interviewer, Cella Demmer, begins.

Luckily, I have a little while to wait. I try to enjoy myself through the first few interviews, but the confident maliciousness oozing from the District 1 tributes puts me off. I try to calm myself down and sort of meditate as the more pleasant District 5 interviews go by, but I am again upset by the casual craziness of District 7. What do sponsors matter, really, when I'm in the arena with people like this?

I'm again saved by District 10. The girl is easygoing and friendly, and she gives me a discreet thumbs up as she goes back to her seat, as if to say that it wasn't really all that bad. The glow of hope carries me through the next couple of interviews, and I try to gather a plan around myself. I'm further put at ease by the District 11 boy's performance; in fact, I actually crack a smile as he yells out across the crowd. I'm nearly in a good mood by the time Peira gets up and strides confidently across the stage. She throws herself down opposite Cella, her hat perched at an almost rakish angle, and I smile to myself.

"So, Peira. You're from District 12, aren't you."

It isn't a question, but Peira grins and says, "You bet I am."

Cella smiles politely and continues. "So confident, I see! But don't you think that people might not consider sponsoring you because of where you come from? Many think that District 12 isn't much of a shiner."

Peira tilts her head back, and smiles slightly. She stretches a little, and then said, "A shiner, ay? I thought that was a black eye."

Cella opens her mouth to object, but Peira plows over her. "Yes, a lot of people skim over District 12. Truth be told, Cella dear, I would too if I were from the Capitol. However, as you have so graciously informed me, I am not, in fact, from the Capitol. I am from District 12, and I don't count myself out."

She flashes another quick, mocking grin at Cella. The interviewer ignores this, and say brightly, "Oh, good! Spirit is always welcome in the arena, I'm sure. But is there any particular reason why you wouldn't count yourself out?"

Peira draws her eyebrows together and purses her lips together in a small smile. The camera zooms in to show the laughing glint in her eyes. "Oh, no, not at all. Whatsoever. In fact, love, I'm quite sure that I'm dead meat. But as the past has shown… well, we District 12 kids always have a few tricks, don't we."

A slight hush falls for a moment as thoughts of the catastrophic second rebellion slide through the one hundred intervening years to occupy the minds of everyone. Then the buzzer rings loudly, and we all give a start. Peira smiles again, showing her teeth, and stands up to face the crowd. She touches her hat, and chirps, "Ta!" She spins on her heel and slips off back to her seat, Cella's eyes boring into her back the entire way.

As she sits down, Peira raises her eyebrows to me. I give her a quick nod as she sits down, and she flashes me her trademark cocky grin. I smile nervously back, and hurry to meet the now fuming Cella Demmer.

The moment Cella sees me, the ghost of a smile flits across her face. I can tell that she sees an easier tribute to deal with in me. She's probably right, too.

"Gante Damask," she says, turning my name over in her mouth. "How are you feeling tonight?"

My hand skitters nervously across my leg, and I run my tongue over my lips. "Oh, fine," I croak out. I wince. Not good.

Cella smiles encouragingly and says, "Even with the arena tomorrow? Feeling confident?"

I open my mouth, intending to say something small and indefinite, but instead all of my jumped-up thoughts come pouring out. "No, I'm really not. At all. I just want to go home and see my friends and family again. I really miss all of them already, especially my friends… and I'm just so sure that I won't be back with them. Ever. I've been watching all of these tributes and they're so big and strong and angry…. And I'm just not. I'm just some kid with a crippled leg and glasses. What am I supposed to do out there?"

I say all of this very fast, and then clamp my mouth shut. I bend my head down to avoid looking at anyone, and I crack my knuckles nervously.

I hear Cella sigh, and I look up to see her wearing a very sad and sincere expression. "Don't count yourself out of it, Gante," she said gently. "As your dear District partner just put it, there can always be surprises."

I breathe in sharply and nod. "Yeah, I know," I said, trying to make my voice a little stronger, "And I'm not counting myself out of it. I know that the world's always full of surprises… and I'm sure that this Games will be no exception."

***does a cartwheel* Yeeeaaaaahh! :D Game time! **

**But first, a warning! From me to you. :)**

**I think that we can all safely agree that while the tributes exhibited in the last six chapters were once yours… they are now mine. They are in **_**my**_** Games. And this means that I am at **_**perfect liberty**_** to do anything to them that my little heart desires. I can torture them. Mutilate them. Drive them insane. And above all, kill them in any way that I see fit. Because believe you me, I **_**will**_**. :) All you can do is sit back and enjoy…. Savvy? **

**Good. Ta~**


	10. Let the Games Begin

**And here we are, at the Games. :) Enjoy.**

**~Gage Goerres~**

I stand awkwardly on my metal plate as the glass cylinder descends around me. It seals me in, and my plate begins to rise. My stylist, who cam o the launch room with me, gives me an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. I scowl back. For some inexplicable reason, the Capitol decided to dress the tributes of Arena in black tshirts and- I wince- dark skinny jeans. What they were thinking, I shall never know. All I do know is that I am_ pissed_. But more on that later.

The plate rises up, and I see light. I crane my neck, trying to increase my already substantial height to catch a glimpse of the arena. I finally do, and I swallow.

It's a city. A huge, sparkling city. It's dark outside, and there are massive buildings towering all around me that are positively glittering. I'm positioned on a street, facing an intersection. On the other side of it, I catch a glimpse of three other tributes being brought in. I look to my right, and I see two others. The one nearest me is the little District 1 fella, and beyond him is a chick that I think is from District 5. I glance out at the miniature Cornucopia, which has been placed in the middle of the intersection, and then back at the tributes near me. The little one, Fyrian, catches my eye. On a burst of inspiration (and, I must admit, temporary insanity), I motion between us, and then raise my eyebrows. He gives me a quick nod and bares his teeth. I look back out at the golden horn grimly. An ally. A Career.

Before I can gather myself, the gong has sounded. The District 5 girl darts away in the other direction from the Cornucopia, and I see a few others heading towards her. Probably an alliance.

Fyrian, on the other hand, has already begun a sprint directly to the Cornucopia. I overtake him easily, and we speed on together. We skid into the horn and look around. I snatch up a glittering ax, and I see Fyrian sling a belt of knives over his shoulder. I'm looking vainly around for backpacks of food when I hear a sharp cry that is quickly cut off. I whirl around, ax in hand, to see the District 12 girl sinking to the ground, a knife in her chest. I walk coolly over to her and look down. Her deep brown eyes are glazed with pain, but she looks up at me fiercely. "Good one, kiddy," she pants, looking over my shoulder at Fyrian. He has his back turned, staring off down another street. I look back down at Peira, and she beckons for me to come closer. Warily, I kneel down at her side. She grabs my t-shirt and pulls herself up to my ear. I stiffen, but don't move away. She rasps, "Gage… take the hat."

I pull back, and look at her in confusion. She scowls, and murmurs, "You idiot. Don't be as dense as you look. _Take the hat_." She swallows with difficulty one last time before falling back to the ground. I know that she wanted me to take her token with me, the leather hat, but something doesn't let me. I turn to Fyrian, my eyes questioning. He looks back at me impassively, and says quietly, "We'd better move, Gage. There's no food here, it must be in the buildings."

I just look at him for a moment. I have to say, I'm rather impressed. This kid can do stuff, I must say. With one guilty glance at the still body of Peira, I follow Fyrian towards one of the tall, dark buildings.

**~Tork~**

I dash past the Cornucopia, running for all I'm worth. I watch the little District 1 guy and the massive 18-year old District 7 tribute run past; they strike quite an odd pair, I must say.

I run to the street that they just vacated, and slow down. I'm going to meet up with Naspa and Jasmine. Naspa is already here, and I can see Jasmine running towards us unhindered. However, my attention has been caught by something else entirely.

There are _people_ here. They're walking down the sidewalks and in and out of buildings, paying us absolutely no attention. As I watch, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see one of the strange people walking right towards me. Scared stiff, I don't move. He doesn't even seem to see me, though; instead, he just swerves around me, and then continues on his original path once he's past. I stare at his retreating back, and a quiet voice behind me says, "Strange, aren't they?"

I whirl around to see Gante Damask looking at me. "I don't really know what they're for… but I'm sure the Gamemakers haven't put them in here just for them to ignore us." His hand flutters nervously at his side, and his eyes dart from side to side.

I nod, still unnerved. "Um…" I say. "Er, Gante? Were you looking for an alliance?"

I'm not entirely sure why I asked, but the poor guy looks kind of lost, and we could always use another ally. A grin splits Gante's face. "Sure, of course," he says, obviously relieved. I have a feeling that that was what he was hoping I'd say all along.

I motion for him to follow me, and we turn down the street. Naspa and Jasmine are already waiting for us, both looking up at the towering buildings nervously. I walk up to them and say bluntly, "Where are we going?"

Naspa looks questioningly from me to Gante, but I just shake my head at her, signaling that it was a spur of the moment decision. Jasmine, meanwhile, has a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"I think…" she said slowly, "That we should grab what weapons we can from the Cornucopia, then go into a building. I think that that's the only place that we'll find food or water."

I nod, and we hurry off. The horn is now deserted, Ermine Vair and Marigold having just left, loaded down with weapons. We enter it and look around, unsure. None of us are very confident with a weapon. I pick up some sort of club, and Jasmine and Naspa each grab daggers. Gante looks a little lost until I shove a hatchet into his hands. He looks at me piteously, and I say brusquely, "It's just to defend yourself, Gante. It's far better than nothing, you know."

He nods, trying to look confident. I know that he has no idea what he's doing, but he still clenches his hand around the hatchet in firm determination. The four of us troop out into the street, and I take a deep breath. I have no idea what sort of chances we have, but we'll sure as hell try. The Games have begun.

**All righty, so I've already killed off someone... I really loved Peira, too, but luckily she was one of my OCs... so. Now. Since I only get to kill 6 people, there will _not_ be really frequent deaths, or the Games would be over within a couple chapters. So. There ought to still be stuff going on, though. ;)**


	11. Day 1 Continued

**All right- so, **_**so**_** sorry that it took this long to update, mates. Real life has me in its grip, as does a certain fascination with the Harry Potter fandom. So. Don't worry, though, I only let HP take half my writing soul, the other half is still here! **** I won't abandon, even if this takes me **_**forever**_**. I'll finish.**

**Plus, you know, Foaly would stab me if I mentioned abandoning. Which, again, I wouldn't. But. :D **

**Anyhoo!**

**Moving on.**

**~Naspa Jennings~**

We start to hurry off towards the nearest building, Tork and Jasmine in the lead. I can hear them conversing in low tones, and I quickly try to catch up.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask casually, trying not to sound suspicious of them. I must have been successful, because Jasmine turns to me and explains, "We were discussing mutts and these people. They can't be harmless, and we're so we're wondering whether going into a building is the smartest option."

Tork nods and adds, "We think that it's the _only_ option, though. I'm not sure where else we could get food."

I nod, troubled, and say hesitantly, "Well… I'm sure that they won't make it too hard for us to get supplies. It'd be a really boring Games if everyone starved…."

Jasmine smiles. "True this." She blinks, and her smile falters. "Erm… Naspa? The hat?"

I feel my face heat up. "Yes, I took it," I say defensively. "She was a good kid! And she was so proud of this hat, and I couldn't let the Capitol take it! I think that Peira would have wanted me to take it… so part of her would continue on, you know?"

I said all of this very fast, and then had to take a deep breath. As one, Tork, Jasmine, and I all turn back to watch the hovercraft appear over the Cornucopia. We watch as Peira's limp body is lifted from the ground, and then the hovercraft disappears. We stand in silence for a moment while Gante looks at us in confusion, and then Tork says quietly, "I think you're right, Naspa." Then he turns and keeps walking. Not looking at Jasmine or Gante, I follow him. As I walk through the door, I feel Jasmine's hand squeeze my shoulder in agreement. We creep through the door, and I hear Gante's breath shudder out. The building is _filled_ with them….

**~Arella Collins~**

I edge out of my hiding place in the shadow of a building and slowly walk towards the Cornucopia. My heart is thundering painfully, my muscles are taut, and my mouth dry. I know that at any minute, I could be struck down. I turn constantly as I walk, trying to take in all of my surroundings at every given moment. All is still, however, as I finally reach the golden horn.

I gaze around, looking for a left over weapon. The horn is completely silent and deserted; all my fellow tributes have disappeared, including the fallen Peira, and the people of the city do not leave the sidewalks. Finally, my eye catches on a dagger lying discarded near the lip of the Cornucopia. Relieved, I snatch it up. I had already gathered that there was no food to be found here by watching the other tributes, so I suppose that it must be in the buildings. I crane my neck back to look up at them indecisively. Finally, I pick a promising-looking one and set off.

**~Ermine Vair~**

Marigold and I walk across the road towards a squat –looking building in silence. My nerves are tingling. I hear a shout, and the two of us whirl around. I notch an arrow to my bow in a single fluid movement, and stare around for the source of the noise. Another whoop rings out, and I see a distant figure running in circles around one of the mysterious inhabitants of the city. The tribute is continually running towards the person, forcing the man to turn away as they all do. However, the tribute dances and stays in front of him, so the man must turn again. I let my bow fall limply to my side, and I draw my eyebrows together. _What the….._

I hear Marigold's breath hiss out between her teeth, and she growls, "_Rasch_._" _I nod grimly. I want to to shoot him, but it's a long distance, he's moving too quickly, and is surrounded by people. All in all, the attempt would be a waste of an arrow. I turn away again, signaling Marigold to follow me. We slip in through the door of the building and enter a deserted foyer. It's very plain, and so we head for the nearby staircase. The second floor is a long hallway lined with doors. I open the nearest one, and see a simple room inside, plainly furnished. I hear Marigold's breath next to my ear, and she whispers, "It looks like a hotel… except a really, really weird one."

I nod in agreement. The place was certainly in contrast with the city's exterior; instead of a bed, there was a small heap of rags. A couple of wooden chairs were served as the only furniture that I could see, with a cardboard box set between them. With a sigh, I toss my bow down near the pile of rags. "This can serve as our camp, then," I say. "We'd better search the place for food, though… I'm sure there's a kitchen somewhere."

Marigold nods, and we head back downstairs to the foyer. After some poking around, we find a dining room on the main floor with a kitchen next door. Inside, we find a few heaps of fruit and vegetables, a little raw meat, and some bottled water. Marigold also finds fire-building materials stashed in some closet. We haul our findings back upstairs. I begin to build the fire in the middle of the room, and Marigold sorts through the food.

There's silence for a few minutes, before Marigold mutters, "All this stuff is so strange…. Fire-building materials in a closet? What even _is _that?"

I smile slightly at her tone, and reply, "I suppose that they want this Games to be more interesting than just us starving, but couldn't quite bring themselves to give us a stove, you know?"

Marigold laughs. We continue a lively chatter all the way through our meal. Finally, I stand up and pull down the shades of our window. Behind me, I hear Marigold lock the door. I throw myself down in the rags and resign myself to an uncomfortable night.

Marigold douses the fire, and then scrapes together some of the rags next to me. We lie in silence for a moment, and then she leans her head towards me. She rests it on my shoulder and closes her eyes. I stiffen slightly. I'm entirely unsure of what to do for a moment, which is rare for me. Finally, I relax. I will dispose of Marigold later on, but for now, I need to get her to truly trust me.

I put my arm around her shoulders, a cunning smile curving my lips. Besides, if I'm just going to get rid of her later- I might as well enjoy myself while I can.

I slide gently into sleep, thoughts of betrayal and revenge chasing each other around my mind.

**OK, so now we know how everyone began their Games... I'm assuming that the Games started at night, pretty much. The daylight in the arena will be very brief, though, because it's a city, and so it's really bright... plus, it's infinitely more imposing and sweet-looking at night. XD  
I'm hoping to get up another chapter this weekend but I shall make no promises. :)**


	12. Day 1, Part 3

**Again, apologies for the slow update rate. :) Also, I've forgotten to write Ace! She's here now, though, in all her glory- albeit a little shorter than Jasmine's part, but she'll have another part quite soon...**

**~Jasmine Hollis~**

I swallow. The strange people are swarming all over the building, going about what looks like their daily business. They pay us no attention as we stand dumbfounded in the doorway. After a moment of silence, I clear my throat. "Come on, we'd better get moving," I say nervously. The others mutter indistinct sounds of agreement, and we edge out into the building's foyer.

I wait for Tork or maybe Naspa to say something, but they are entranced by the people flowing around us. Grumbling to myself, I march purposefully off towards the elevator. "Just standing there isn't going to help much," I call back over my shoulder. The group lurches forward as one, and I can see them trying to quell their anxiety. I'm struggling with the same thing; the silent people are nerve-racking, especially since we know deep down that they're not just here for decoration. However, even as our group wades through them, not a single one gets close to us or even registers that we are there. It makes me feel as though we have some sort of little force field around us.

However, it still doesn't give us much of a sense of security. We skirt and skip around the mutts the whole way. After what seems like a ridiculously long time, considering that all we did was walk across a room, we reach the elevators. I push the button with the upward-pointing arrow on it and it lights up. To break the tense silence, Gante asks, "Any idea what floor we're headed to?"

I suck my cheeks in thoughtfully. "Well… I don't particularly want to be down here, but I'm a little leery of the top floor, too… how about right in the middle?"

Tork breaks himself out of his daze and replies tiredly, "Sounds wonderful, Jasmine. If you don't mind, though, I'm going to stay down here and try to find some food."

I nod, but then I pause. "Not by yourself, surely?"

Tork runs his tongue nervously over his teeth. I can tell he's a little frightened, but he doesn't want to have to tell us. Before I can say anything, Naspa pipes up. "I'll help you, Tork."

Tork shoots her a grateful look as the elevator doors slide open. I nod decisively. "Great. The moment you find some stuff, bring up as much as you can carry- remember, Gante and I will be on the middle floor. We'll be waiting for you."

Naspa and Tork nod in understanding, and they watch apprehensively as the doors close behind us.

Once the elevator doors are closed, I look at the panel of numbers. There's fourteen floors. "Hmm," I murmur. "Gante, what do you think- seven or eight?"

Without hesitation, he says, "Seven. That's supposed to be a lucky number, right?"

I grimace. "Which is probably a good reason not to choose it."

He pales a little bit, and silently reaches out to press the button for the eighth floor. We ride up in silence, each occupied with our own thoughts. The moment the doors whisper open, I stick my head warily out and look to the left and right. Empty, as far as I can tell. I beckon for Gante to follow me, and we step out of the elevator. The doors close behind us. As one, Gante and I turn and silently pad off down the hallway to the left. We pass about nine doors before I slow down. I place my hand on a door's handle, and find it unlocked. I jerk my head, motioning for Gante to follow me in.

I look around the room we've entered. It seems to be a very, very plain sort of office. It's not all that large, and only contains a couple of bookshelves, a desk, a chair, and a large heap of rags. I snatch up a rag from the pile and bring it over to the door. I open it and tie the rag to the outside handle. I hear a small noise from Gante, and I explain, "It's to let Tork and Naspa know what room we're in."

I turn around, and see that Gante isn't even paying attention to what I had been doing. Instead, he's gazing wide-eyed at the books on the bookshelf. Warily, I walk over and pull one off the shelf at random. I let it flip it open, and I frown. It's a volume full of pictures. I flip the book over to read the spine, and a small sigh escapes my lips. _The 97__th__ Hunger Games._ I sink down to the floor and gaze unseeingly at the pictures in the book. Now I know who these people are. They're tributes. Dead tributes.

Gante takes the books from my limp fingers and begins to turn its pages. The pages he first looks at are full of happy, smiling people standing in various districts. Then pictures of the chariots and of the interviews flash by… and then the pictures are all in a forest. The faces are no longer smiling. They are tense, frightened… And then the blood begins. A lean teenage girl, a spear through her stomach. A tall boy, blood running from a wound in his head. A tiny girl kneeling on the ground, screaming as a hulking Career towers over her. My breath begins to falter, and the pictures begin to blur through a film of tears. Then, a picture of a brutish boy, glorious in the Capitol. And finally, pictures of people crying- the torn and shattered families and friends of twenty-three dead children.

Tears are sliding freely down my face. I reach over and gently close the book. Gante looks up at me, his eyes red and watery. "Jasmine. Why?"

I shake my head slowly and sniff loudly. Anyone who says tears are beautiful is wrong- real tears, anyways, are snotty and messy. They're not supposed to be beautiful. I sigh, and say quietly, "Because this is what is going to happen to us, Gante. These faces are our faces. That boy that won there- he's Gage or Marigold or Ermine or Fyrian. One of the other arena's Careers. Maybe even Ace…. But not us. And those families are _our_ families. They're my siblings. They're torn, and we're gone."

Gante stands up and slams the book back into the bookshelf. He turns and looks at me defiantly. "All right, Jasmine," he says, and his voice trembles with both fear and anger. "Maybe I don't have much of a chance. Maybe you don't either. If we die, we die. But life is always worth a shot."

I look up at him. His hands are on his hips, and his face is set and determined. I stand up, too, and I give him a small, shaky smile. "Okay, Gante. You're right. I can't let my siblings be broken in one of those books. We'll always try."

"That's it," Gante says, trying to smile back. His hands are fluttering at his side, betraying his nervousness. Still, I admire him. I hope he lives. I wish we all could.

**~Ace~**

I wrap my hand firmly around my ax. Narrowing my eyes, I watch the five tributes edge in through the door of a building down the street. I nod to myself, and set off towards it.

These people here are really creeping me out. I'm not usually scared by much, but even I have to admit that they're making me a little nervous. Yet another one swerves past me, and I growl. I stand still for a moment, and then I whirl around. The ax leaps from my hand and buries itself in the man's back. He keeps walking. I stand in doubt for a moment before I realize that my weapon is walking away from me. I jog back to him and wrench the blade free of his back. I swallow painfully. There is no mark left behind. The man keeps walking down the street, leaving me rooted to the sidewalk. Unkillable mutts. Just what we all need.

I rally myself and hurry off down the street again. I quietly slip into the building that the other tributes entered. Closing the door softly behind me, I look through the crowd of mutts to see them huddled at the elevator. I slip closer, blending in with the mutts. Straining my ears, I listen. I hear the District 11 girl announce, "I don't particularly want to be down here, but I'm a little leery of the top floor, too… how about right in the middle?" The others agree, and I back off a little. I watch as they split up, and Tork and that Naspa girl head foff in another direction. Gante and Jasmine get in the elevator.

I make a split-second decision to follow the latter group. Chances are the others will meet them up there, anyways. As soon as Tork and Naspa have disappeared, I get into another elevator, only to find fourteen floors available. I frown, and push number seven. It's closer.

The door slides open, but I stay inside, holding my breath and listening. Damn it, nothing. I let the doors close, and impatiently jab my finger at the button for the eighth floor. This time, I stick my head out the moment the doors glide open. Ah- success. Jasmine and Gante are just entering a room down the hall to my left. I press my lips together happily, and wait for their door to close. Then I step out of the elevator and walk quickly down the hall.

**I hate this. I love all my tributes so much now! ;( Ah well. Such is the Hunger Games, no?**


	13. Day 1, Ending

**And here we are again. :) I do so love winter break; I actually updated twice in a week, can you believe that? Foaly says I'm slow (actually, she had a lovely simile for just _how_ slow... it's in an AN in her fic), but I'm not THAT slow. I just got an update alert today for an SYOC that last updated in early September. THAT'S slow.  
**

**So. Onwards...**

**~Rasch Howton~**

This place is _so weird_. It doesn't really feel much like the Hunger Games in here. I think that it's because the place is so massive, and so I haven't even glimpsed any other tributes since I dashed off at the gong. How depressing. I'm starving for a good conversation.

Then again, half of them would kill me before I even managed a comment on the weather. That's all right, though. By the looks of some of them, I'm not all that sure that those ones would be very good conversationalists anyways. It's appalling how barbaric some of them seem; I think that if I so much as mention how nice the stars look tonight, they might skewer me.

But anyways.

I stroll cheerfully along the sidewalk, enjoying the cool air. Occasionally, I jump out at one of the muttation-people and enjoy their spastic little reaction. I almost wish they'd notice me, though, even if it might get me killed. The way that they look through me has me glancing down to make sure that I'm still there. It's a little disturbing to think that I'm not.

I've already gone in a building and eaten some food, but I keep wondering whether I need a weapon. I broke down earlier and checked the Cornucopia for one, but there was nothing left. Then I left and beat my head on a wall for wanting something like that. It was then that I gave up on the mutts. If they didn't notice that, I'm not sure what will work.

I am just considering going to eat some more- not much _else_ to do here, interestingly enough- when a cannon blast rings out. I drop to the ground, my nerves tingling, and put my arms over my head. A cannon? Who got _that_ out of the Cornucopia?

….Oh. Right.

**~Fyrian Manas~**

I look sharply over my shoulder. Nothing. I tuck my chin to my chest, annoyed with myself for being so nervous.

Gage and I are hunched in a parking garage, a pile of food from another building heaped by our small fire. I glance over at Gage. He has his knees pulled up to his chest. One arm is wrapped around them, and the other one is white with the strength of his grasp on his ax. As though he's felt my gaze, Gage jerks his head up to stare at me. "What?" he snaps.

Amused, I shrug. "Nothing. It's just…. I don't know... so _boring_ here."

Gage opens his mouth in surprise, and then closes it, looking thoughtful. A wry grin crosses his face. "You know? You're right, Fyrian. I thought it'd be all action and survival, but… somehow, I'm sort of wishing that I had a good book or something right now."

I look up at him, unable to hide my surprise. Gage raises a questioning eyebrow. I quell the laughter bubbling in my chest, and ask, "You mean… you like to read?"

Gage frowned. "Yes. I'm not entirely uncultured, you know."

I grin crookedly. "Oh. My mistake. It's just, you know… you look like a bit of a brute."

Gage's face hardens, and I feel a twinge of pleasure. I know that he takes pride in the way he looks, and it seems to be a good place to needle him in. I continue, saying, "Yeah, it's something about how big you are, too. Subconsciously, I always feel like you exist to step on me."

Gage looks at me impassively. "To step on you? But that _is_ cultured, little man. You know what cultured means, right? With refined taste and manners. Grinding small people under my heel is very good manners, you see. No one wants them around."

Annoyed with the jabs at my lack of height, I tilt my head to the side, giving him my best psycho look. A shadow of a grin crosses his face, and then he tilts his head as well and matches me, crazy to crazy.

I roll my eyes, and am about to give him a scathing reply, when I hear a noise. A cannon. Gage and I both dash to the side of the parking garage and lean out. We're on the fourth story, and we have a pretty good view of things. However, all seems to be still. "Must be in a building," I breathe.

Gage nods stiffly, and returns to the fire. "Mmmm. Well, we'll find out who it was soon enough."

**~Jasmine Hollis~**

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the door move. I turn my tearstained face towards it, wanting to tell Naspa and Tork all about the books. I don't want to upset them unnecessarily, but I want to spread the news about this atrocity.

A girl walked in, and I opened my mouth to start telling her. I heard Gante moan, and I blinked. Hold on… I take in the paleness of the person before me. _That's_ not Naspa. I look at the glaring green eyes, and my lip curls. Ace.

Ace raises her arm behind her head. An ax glitters in her grasp. My lungs expand with what I feel is my last breath. All I can see in the world is Ace's mad green eyes and the cold shine of the ax in her hand.

And then Gante.

He brings Ace to the floor in a flying tackle. Yelling in fear and rage, he starts pummeling every inch of her that he can. I'm left lying on the floor, paralyzed with fear. I need to help, but I'm frozen.

Suddenly, Gante lets out a whine unlike anything I've ever heard. Ace shoves him off her, and stands up. She looks at me. I stare back.

It's then that I notice that her ax is no longer silver. It's red….

The scream is ripped from my throat. Wild, I throw myself at Ace. I see her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow with a dangerous determination.

I slam my fist into the side of her head with all my force. She staggers, and I take the opportunity to ram my shoulder into her. She falls over, and I begin to kick her with every bit of strength in my body. Tears of rage are streaming down my face, and I feel a fierce and frightening pleasure every time my foot connects with Ace. Gasping, I see her pulling her ax back. I kick her again, and then stamp on her arm, and then again on her hand. The ax skitters out of her fingers, and she begins pulling herself away from me. Finally, with a visible effort, she hauls herself to her feet and dashes out of the door. After a heartbeat of hesitation, I run out after her. I see her slip into the elevator, and I scream.

"_Coward!"_

She looks out at me one last time, her face full of hate, before the doors shut and she disappears.

Sobbing, I run back into the room. I kneel down next to Gante and run my hand gently over his face. His eyes are open, and he gasps in pain. His fingers flutter around the gaping, bloody wound in his chest. Frantic, I say, "Gante… Gante, we'll figure something out- I'll go get the others, and we'll…"

My voice trails away as Gante shakes his head. "No, Jasmine, it's too late. You know that," he murmurs.

I swallow painfully. "But Gante- _why_ didn't you just let her kill me?"

Gante's eyes are glazed with pain and confusion, but he manages to force his lips into something that I take for a smile. "She would have killed me right afterwards anyways," he whispers. "I couldn't have fought her the way you did… and so I thought that you might as well get a chance if I was doomed either way. And Jasmine… you… you have those siblings. You've told us so much about them, and… and I can tell how much you love them and how much they need you. You… have to get home." He draws in another shuddering breath. "Keep the others safe. Show them the book. And..."

But I never get to hear Gante's last request. He is suddenly very still- too still. I tap his shoulder desperately, but he doesn't move. I close my eyes and let the tears drip down onto his face. I'm aware that I barely knew the kid, but it's still heartbreaking to watch a spirit that strong get cut away right before you. I open my eyes again. Trembling, I reach my hand out and gently close his eyes. Then I turn away and huddle against the wall to wait for Naspa and Tork.

**...meh. _So _depressing. I really didn't want to kill the poor kid, but... such is the Hunger Games. Oh, and apologies for the two OC point-of-views at the beginning, but we needed to check in with them. Also, I had to have _something_ fun in this chapter... thus, Rasch. I love the guy. :D Plus, I think I've found that fight scenes aren't my thing... so please give me some feedback. ;)  
**

**I had something else to tell you, I swear I did... but I can't for the life of me remember what. Ah, well.**

**Cheers!**

**~chickenwinglegolas  
**


	14. Day 2, The Beginning

**Sorry for the wait. Exams kill.**

**~Marigold Mist~**

Ermine and I peer warily out of the glass doors of our hotel. It's day now, and the city looks completely different. It's a far less imposing and sinister place with everything bathed in sunlight, and the people there just seem like normal citizens going about their everyday business. Unable to help myself, I smile. I glance sideways at Ermine, and see that his features are darkened with an unwavering frown. I nudge him slightly with my elbow, and he jumps. I raise an eyebrow, smiling slightly. "You're certainly a right little ray of sunshine this morning, aren't you?"

He smiles crookedly, and replies edgily, "It's just… Well, it's nicer in the day, I suppose, but I still know it's all a trick."

Gloom settles back over my mind like a fog. I scowl at him. "Thanks for that, Ermine. Way to _entirely_ burst my bubble."

He grins. "All right, I'm sorry. Now are you ready to go burst someone else's bubble?"

I nod, and we edge out the door and into the sunlit street.

A tall man walks past us, staring. I frown. Why does that bother me….. Suddenly, I whisper, "Ermine…."

He's craning his neck up to look at the high buildings surrounding us. "What?" he growls distractedly.

I swallow nervously as a few more people walk past us. "Ermine, they're _looking_ at us."

My frightened tone of voice catches his attention, and he looks around. Indeed, every time a person walks past us, they stare right at us. They turn their heads to look at us until they're completely past. It's entirely unnerving.

Ermine backs up into the street, free of the flow of people. I follow him, and the people all turn their heads to watch us. I watch them, my eyes wide. Next to me, Ermine notches an arrow to his bow. He's shaking slightly, but his aim is still unerring. His arrow flies true and buries itself in a woman's forehead. Her expression does not change. Ermine stays rooted to the spot as she gets far enough away to finally turn her face away from us. I screw up my courage, and run after her. Ermine makes some sort of noise, but I don't listen. I catch up with the woman and yank the arrow out of her face. It leaves no mark behind. She gazes at me, but does nothing but continue walking. I hurry back to Ermine, my heart thundering. Wordlessly, I hand him his arrow, and we set off down the street, determinedly looking everywhere but at the mutts.

**~Gage Goerres~**

I roll my shoulders, then raise my elbows out slightly, cracking my shoulders. Fyrian gives me a withering glance, and I grin. I raise and lower my arms a few more times, making the cracking noise repeatedly. He sighs pointedly, trying to make me seem childish. I shrug, still smiling. I cracked my shoulders before going to sleep last night, too. I saw him try it himself a few minutes later, but he couldn't get them to crack.

We're walking down a bustling, sun-drenched street. Squinching up my eyes, I glared upwards at the sun. The cheery weather is really clashing magnificently with the bad mood I have been in since waking up this morning to find the people looking at us. It's not like my mood is going to be improved by a bit of sunshine, either. Instead, I'm getting steadily surlier.

Fyrian, of course, is positively squirming with happiness at my sour mood. He's literally walking with a spring in his step, occasionally shooting me a manic little grin.

And offering me positively asinine little comments. "Come on, Gage, cheer up!" he says bracingly. "It's bright and sunny, we're not dead, and we're out people-hunting! Why_ever_ are you so blue?"

I resist the urge to unscrew his head by his ears.

**~Ermine Vair~**

I sigh. The Gamemakers really should have put a bit more thought into this arena, honestly. It's _so _hard to find other tributes. They could be _anywhere_ in all these thousands of rooms. I mean, really.

I've definitely lost a bit of the manic energy I had had since waking up this morning. Sighing again, I glance over at Marigold. She's strolling along, a knife loosely held at her side, looking up at the towering structures around us.

I grit my teeth. Eventually, we're just going to have to start combing those buildings. There's obviously no one out on the streets.

Just as this thought crosses my mind, a whoop rings out across the intersection in front of us. Marigold and I tense, waiting expectantly.

A moment later, a tall, brown-haired someone comes cartwheeling out from the street to the left. I bare my teeth, raising my bow. It's Rasch. Oh, that imbecile is going to get it now.

I am just about to let my arrow fly when Rasch suddenly goes quiet and looks down the street in front of him. It's the street on the right of the intersection, so I can't tell what it is he's looking at. I hesitate for a moment, then give a mental shrug and raise my bow again. Might as well kill Rasch before worrying about anything else. Just as the arrow leaves my bow, however, Rasch turns tail and flees back down the street he came from. I let out a hiss of frustration. Damn it.

Marigold darts out in front of me as I stare at nothing, still seething. She cranes her head to see around the corner, then rapidly skips backwards. I cock my head questioningly, and she whispers, "It's Gage and Fyrian!"

I tilt my head back and glare accusingly at the sky. Of _course_. The one tribute who's mental enough to be in the streets, and the four of us find him at once.

Still, I had seen Fyrian and Gage at the Cornucopia, and I don't think either of them has a weapon that can reach that long of a distance. If we hurry, I could get Rasch and still have time to shoot down at least one of them before we're in range of Fyrian's knives or Gage's ax.

I sprint forward, signaling for Marigold to follow. We whip around the corner. Rasch is in full tilt, his long arms pinwheeling. After glancing back a couple times at the two tributes chasing after us, I skid to a stop and notch my arrow.

**~Fyrian Manas~**

I see the pair of tributes flash around the corner, and I instinctively break into a sprint. I hear Gage speed up behind me, and we streak forwards together. The two tributes in front of us are running too, but they are continuously glancing back at us. Finally, Ermine slides to a halt and whips his bow into place. Marigold stands at his back, facing us, her knives ready. My mind quickly breaks down the situation. Gage and I are gaining fast, but there's no way we can beat Ermine's arrow. Also, if we get too much closer, we're going to have to deal with Marigold. I'm reasonably sure that I can throw my knives farther than she can, but I'm not entirely willing to stake my life on that. Plus, Ermine's going to turn around the moment Rasch drops, and we can't do much about arrows at this distance.

Of course, I hadn't figured Rasch himself into the equation. Until now, it had just looked like he was behaving like the idiot he seems, running in wild loops and zigzags. Suddenly, I realize that it had all been a crazy, desperate gambit, designed by someone far cleverer than any of us had guessed.

A milling crowd of mutts now stood between Rasch and us. He had been running in a pattern so as to force them all into a certain area, betting on the fact that they would still swerve away from him. He had been right, too. Ermine was tilting his bow this way and that, desperately trying to pick Rasch out from the crowd. It was hopeless, though; Rasch was nowhere to be seen.

Ermine lets out an angry whine and whirls around to face us. Marigold raises her knife threateningly. Knowing that we would have no chance if we kept running straight at them, I veer off down the street to the left, Gage tight on my heels. I throw all my strength into my run, knowing that Marigold and Ermine were following. I run straight for the building on the corner, and I wrench open the door. Gage and I pound through the lobby of the building, not even noticing where we were. I flew into another room- an adjacent restaurant, by the looks of it. There, I found what I was looking for- a door that led outside to the street that Rasch, Ermine, and Marigold had been on earlier.

As Gage follows me into the street, I hear crashing sounds from inside the restaurant. I risk a glance backwards, and I see Ermine tearing through, knocking tables everywhere.

Ahead of us, the street seems to be Rasch-free. No- not quite. I catch sight of him slipping into a door a few buildings down. I grit my teeth in determination, and follow.

Inside, I see Rasch disappearing up a nearby staircase. Gage and I follow. Still, I hear the sounds of Ermine or Marigold ripping the door open to follow us.

Rasch exits the staircase on the second floor. He flies down the hall, throwing one terrified glance back at us as he does. I let a knife go, but it zips harmlessly past his head as he turns into a room on the right. Panting now, I doggedly follow.

The room I find myself in is a bright, cheery little apartment. Rasch is standing on the bed, cornered. Before I can throw another knife, I hear Gage growl, "_Duck_".

I do, and quickly. The ax jumps out of his hand, but Rasch ducks at the same moment. The ax slams into the window behind him, shattering it. Before either of us can react, Rasch is gone.

We hurry to the window and look out in amazement. Rasch lands on the ground easily, his knees absorbing the impact. Without a backwards glance, he sprints off down the street and around the corner.

I back up from the window and sit down on the bed. I bury my face in my hands. I feel Gage sit down next to me, and I look up at him. His face is showing the same shock that I am feeling. I drag at my cheeks with my fingers and say, "Gage, that was Rasch. _Rasch, _Gage. What _have _we done?"

He chuckles wryly. "Well, at least we beat Marigold and Ermine."

Marigold and Ermine! I jump to my feet, looking wide-eyed at the door, but Gage stays where he is. He smiles at my doubtful expression, and explains, "I locked it when we came in. I thought it would be prudent."

To confirm his statement, and loud thud sounds outside the door. Gage raises his eyebrows in amusement, and gets up stiffly. "Well, I suppose we know one way out of here," he mutters quietly, glancing at the window. I snort, and I follow him as he leaps out the window.

**~Ermine Vair~**

I slide down against the wall outside of the apartment room. I pound the carpet with my fists in frustration.

Marigold crouches down next to me and puts her hand on my arm comfortingly. "It's all right, Ermine- they didn't catch Rasch, either."

I crack my jaw. "Doesn't matter." I say mulishly.

I look up to see her rolling her eyes. "It does, even if you're too stubborn to admit it," she says sternly. "Now- are we going to sit here all day?"

I huff out an angry sigh. "Well, what then?"

"How about we go comb some buildings?" she suggests in a painfully reasonable tone of voice. "We're bound to find that big alliance at some point, or maybe Arella or Ace. Sound good?"

I let out a noncommittal grunt, but Marigold hauls me to my feet anyway, and we set off in search of a redeeming murder.

**All right. I admit it- I was sitting here listening to Zack Hemsey's Mind Heist (from the trailer of Inception. It can make walking down the street feel like a mission to save the world) while I was writing this, and so, uh... yeah. It was a bit, um- _spontaneous_... Do tell me what you thought. Please. :)**

**~chickenwinglegolas  
**


	15. Day 2, Evening

**Hello again. I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long. The school soccer season's started though, so I barely have time left for schoolwork, let alone writing fanfiction. Still, never fear. I shall get there in the end. I'm also shortening my Games a bit to make up for lost time. So, expect some rapid-fire deaths here. :D Still, that's kinda the way it ought to be, with only six deaths and all...**

**~Arella Collins~**

The setting sun glints off the windows of the tall buildings, burning blue spots into my vision. I screw up my eyes in a vain effort to see properly. Having those stupid dark spots getting in my way is really not what I need.

I'm sauntering rather slowly along down a sidewalk. There seems to be absolutely no other tributes out and about now. Earlier today I had seen a rather interesting chase from my vantage point of a second-story window, but apparently no one had been killed. Now evening is approaching. For some reason, the days seem to be much shorter here than the nights. The city is bright enough that it doesn't really matter, but…. I don't know, everything about this unnatural city just grates on my nerves.

Including the fact that I always have to be on edge. Even though I've met no one, my nerves are still tingling as if the gong had just rung. Ah well. I suppose if it helps me survive when I _do_ meet someone…..

Moodily, I kick a can that is blowing lazily along the sidewalk. When I first came out of the building I'd been hiding in at about noon- or, at least, whatever halfway through these short days is called- trash could suddenly be found all over the place. I have no idea where it came from, but I'm pretty darn sure it hadn't been there before. Also, a rather unpleasant wind kicked up, and clouds had started scudding across the sky.

I am broken out of my thoughts by a sudden sound behind me. I whirl around, dagger in hand, my heart thundering in my ears. About 10 yards behind me, a slab of sidewalk is shaking violently. My mouth dry as sandpaper, I drag my suddenly heavy legs backwards. I want to turn and run, but my eyes are glued to the sidewalk. A heartbeat later, the slab flies into the air and lands in the street. Out of the hole left behind crawls something that is best left to nightmares. I don't even know what to call it. It's of a vaguely humanoid shape, but with pointed ears flat against its head, and it's crawling on all fours. It's covered with short, bristly brown fur, with many bald patches showing pale, slimy, and scabby skin. Its eyes, which don't seem to have found me yet, are a solid, glaring green. I let out a dry sob of fear, and the thing's head snaps towards me. It bares teeth sharp as blackthorns at me, and then begins to move in my direction at a speed much faster than I had expected from it. Suddenly, I find myself able to run again. I turn and sprint away, not looking back once. I whip around a corner, and turn into the first doorway. I find myself in some sort of restaurant. Risking a glance back, I see the mutt sitting outside the glass door, sniffing at it. Hoping that the door will keep it occupied for a little while at least, I look around desperately for something to help me. My eyes land on a pair of doors across the room. The kitchen.

I dash towards them, and shove the doors open. They swing shut just as the crash and tinkle of glass sound from behind me. It's gotten in.

I look around me. There is a long island counter in the middle of the room, covered in food and cooking utensils. I see pots, pans… knives! I grab a few extra, and then out of the corner of my eye, I see the mutt burst in. It jumps onto the island counter, sending pots and pans crashing to the floor. I scream, and take a step backwards. My foot skids off a knife on the ground, and I fall over. I scramble to my feet again, and huddle against the wall, clenching a knife. I press my free hand against the wall, and I feel something rather unexpected. A handle.

Still keeping my eyes on the mutt, I heave sideways on the handle, flipping it open. As the mutt begins to leap towards me, I drag the heavy door behind me open and fall backwards through it. The mutt lands on the floor in front of me, snarling.

I scramble backwards again, and find myself pressed against some empty wire shelving. I scramble onto the first wide shelf, then to the second. I press myself against the wall of the little room, and I begin to shiver. It's then that I realize where we are. A walk-in freezer.

Below me, the mutt is bunching its muscled legs. It springs upwards, wraps its long, scabbed fingers around the wire of my shelf, and begins to pull itself up. Wildly, I slash out with my knife, catching it around the knuckles. It snarls in pain, and lashes out. It catches the wrist of my outstretched hand, and falls backwards, dragging me over with it. I scream as we crash to the floor. Luckily, I land right on top, knocking the breath out of the mutt with a loud _huff_. I take advantage of its winded state to raise my knife. The mutt gives me one more burning look before I bury my knife up to the handle in its neck. I yank it out, and stab it again, this time in the chest. I keep on going for a few moments, letting out a small, terrified sob with every stab, before I slump back in exhaustion. I'm shaking uncontrollably, my ears are numb, and the skin on my fingers is white and tingling. I drag myself away from the mutt's corpse, out into the kitchen, and I collapse on the tile floor. It's still not warm enough here, though, with the cold air wafting out of the open freezer. I haul myself to my feet, and I stumble back through the restaurant. Back out in the street, the sun has already disappeared, and the sky is getting dark. The lights have already turned on in the streets and in the buildings. Wearily, I weave through the eternal stream of people on the sidewalk. I'm so tired and distracted that I don't even notice them- how, not only do they just look at me, but they are beginning to drift towards me when I walk by. No, I notice none of this. All I notice is the apartment building before me, where I know I'll find some food and a nice pile of rags.

**~Tork~**

Jasmine, Naspa, and I huddle together in the apartment room. We're actually in a different building from the one where Gante died; none of us wanted to sleep there. We had taken his body out the moment Naspa and I came back upstairs; we knew the Capitol couldn't use a hovercraft if he was in the middle of a building, and we wanted his parents to get his body. So, we left him in the street, and stood and watched as the hovercraft came to take him out of this hell forever.

Now the three of us are sitting in silence, unable to sleep, unable to talk. It's not like any of us were particularly close to Gante or anything, but his death had still rattled us. It suddenly made the Games seem much more real than they had previously.

Jasmine seemed particularly affected. I think that Gante must have reminded her of one of her siblings or something, because she's hardly moved since we came to this apartment. She just sits there, clutching that book of the 94th Games from the other room that she showed us, staring at the wall with red eyes.

I sigh, and drag a few rags together. I wish we were still in the hotel; it was a little homier there. This place is actually some sort of storage building- there's a bunch of junk downstairs. This room is just an empty one we found on the second story. I don't think that Gamemakers were expecting anyone to sleep here, because there weren't any rags; we just brought these from the hotel. Ah, well. Might as well try to get some rest. It could be a very exciting day tomorrow…

**~Rasch Howton- later~**

Good lord, I'm tired.

Those stupid brutes really ran me around earlier. I'm not exactly used to sprinting for my life, and I must say that jumping out a window was a new experience for me. I went and passed out in some hotel room earlier, but now I'm back out in the streets. It's actually a couple of hours until daybreak, if I've figured correctly, and nothing's moving besides those friggin people-mutts. Still, I suppose they saved my life earlier, so I'm not complaining.

No, I just lied. I am complaining. They've gotten steadily creepier as the day wore on. About an hour ago, they started to follow me. I've been walking in circles, in and out of buildings, trying to get rid of them, but they're still there. It's starting to worry me. Also, a lot of them seem to have lost most their hair, their cheeks are looking quite hollow, and their clothes have become rather worn. It's not a very flattering look, over all.

I amble over to a large, heavy-looking set of double doors. Huh. I open them, and to my surprise, it's filled with all sorts of goodies. There's hammers, shovels, saws, axes…. Lots of unpleasant-looking tools that would be quite normal in another setting, but here they're a bit frightening. I bet Gage or Ermine would just love to get their mitts on some of these.

Hmm. I look thoughtfully at the crowd of silent mutts over my shoulder, then back at the room of tools. Then at the door. Oooh, look. It's got a lock on the outside. And a _key, _just dangling right next to it on a little leather loop! How very convenient. Thank you, Gamemakers. It's like you read my mind.

I stroll slowly into the room, and press myself against the back wall. I wait until all of my loyal followers have crowded in. Then, with an excited whoop, I tear through them, and slam the door shut behind me. I hurry across the street to some apartment building there, dash up to the second story, and into an empty room. I tug open the curtains, and look- a perfect view. I grin, spinning the key around my fingers. I'm so cool. I can't wait for someone to walk in there. Talk about the surprise of a lifetime. Especially since my little friends in there ought to be pretty riled up by that point….

**Well, that was fun. I was tempted to get Arella beaten up a bit, but I decided against it. She's fine, besides some frostnip, which is no big deal. So. And I can't wait for the next chapter, which means it might be up a little faster than this one. ;)**

**Cheers,**

**chickenwinglegolas  
**


	16. Day 2, End

**Hello hello. Sorry it's taken me so friggin long. The soccer season is _so_ busy, it's ridiculous. Still, I only have a few weeks of it left, and since that's about how long it takes me to update anyways... well. :)**

**Enjoy.**

**~Arella Collins~**

_Shit._

I tear down the hallway of my apartment building. My limbs are still heavy with exhaustion, but I run anyway. A strangled sob issues from my throat; this is the second time in two days that I've been running for my life like this.

Except, this time, it's not one lonely mutt. It's a crowd of them. And they're terrifying….

It's the people of the city. No longer are they docile inhabitants who merely populate the place, paying us no heed. No longer do they look like anyone I might see on a street, somewhere outside of the arena. They've become monsters. Their eyes are wide, their mouths are gaping, and they're chasing me. They've only got a few patches of hair, and their skin is hanging from them in ragged folds and strips, showing raw… I don't even know what to call it… this gross red and grey stuff that I'm quite sure isn't under _my_ skin. They've rotted from the inside out, and the bloodlust is written in their eyes.

I guess they're sort of like some of us.

Not that that helps me much. They're all lurching after me at an extremely surprising speed. I don't know whether I've gained any distance on them at all.

My breath is getting progressively more ragged. Out in the street now, I see that dusk is approaching quickly; the sky is a bruised color of deep purple and grey. The wind has picked up since I was last outside, and is now whistling through the empty streets, blowing empty cans and food wrappers along the sidewalks. I blink as a raindrop splatters my face, and then another; a heartbeat later, water is steadily pouring from the sky, hissing on the streets. I narrow my eyes and press onwards.

I turn a corner sharply and risk a glance behind me. The mutts are far closer than I imagined. I clench my teeth until I hear them creak, and glance to my left. A huge pair of thick double doors looms ahead about fifteen yards away. I feel my hopes rise up in spite of myself; the mutts wouldn't stand a chance against those heavy things.

I put on an extra burst of speed to get a step ahead. Wrapping my hands around the handles, I tug the doors open, slip through the crack, and slam them behind me with a feeling of intense satisfaction. I turn around and survey the room I've entered. It's very dark- there are no windows. I feel along the wall for a light switch. My fingers fumble for a moment, and then I find one and flick it on.

When I see what I've done, I don't even scream. Ignoring the tight feeling in my chest, I simply pull on the door to leave.

It's locked.

I feel the first hand on my shoulder. That's when I scream.

**~Rasch Howton~**

I grin as I turn the key in the lock. Nice. I couldn't even see who went in there through the massive crowd of mutts following them, but I know it must have been a Career. Who else would be out right now?

I must say, I'm lucky these are muttations and not real people. The moment the tribute slammed the door on them, they turned in unison and went back to walking down the streets. Of course, I've attracted their attention now, but that's fine. My door has a lock. I turn and dash back to my building. That's when I hear the first scream issue from behind me.

**~Naspa Jennings~**

I wander through the building dejectedly. The rest of my depleted alliance and I decided to move house once the mutts started getting nastier- the hotel was just too full of them. Now we're in some sort of empty warehouse that I guess the mutts- or the Gamemakers- decided wasn't worth staking out. Because honestly, there is _nothing_ here, not even rag piles. We're lucky we thought to bring some food from the hotel.

I hear a door slam in the distance. I hold completely still, holding my breath. It's got to be another tribute- no mutt would slam the door. And if it's another tribute, chances are it's a killer. Everyone else is sure to be hunkered down somewhere safe if they've got half a brain.

Suddenly, I hear a shrill scream. I stiffen. A girl. The possibility of Ace doesn't even cross my mind. I just think of Arella and Marigold- I mean, Marigold's not that bad, for a Career.

I tear through the hallway in the direction of the noise, and stop when I hear another yell issue out from behind the double doors to my right. My heart thudding painfully, I turn slowly… and pull the door open.

Just in time to see it. A mutt- an elderly man, or what used to be one- is standing over Arella, who is hunched on the ground. He's holding a shovel in his hands. He raises is slowly… and brings it straight down into her chest.

She screams a scream like none I've ever heard as the rusty tool slices into her rib cage. Then, as I watch in frozen horror, another mutt- this one a child- holds up her arm and sinks his teeth into it, tearing at her flesh. Arella, still alive, can only moan.

I scream. The little boy looks up at me, blood smeared on his smooth skin. The mutts surge forward, hiding Arella from my view. I slam the door and stagger backwards into the opposite wall. I turn and walk back the way I came, still leaning on the wall. I don't make a noise until I'm knocking on the door of the large office that my alliance has made their home. Tork opens the door, smiling when he sees me. That grin slides off his face very quickly, though, when he sees my expression. "Naspa? What's wrong?"

I grab him by the shoulders, digging my fingernails into his skin. His eyes widen, and he pulls away back into the room. "Naspa? _Naspa!"_

I've sunk to my knees in front of him, bowing my head. My mind is pounding, and all I see is the image of Arella being stabbed, then eaten alive… replaying over and over again in my mind's eye.

I feel someone grab my chin and tip it up, and then I'm looking into Jasmine's frantic eyes. "Naspa," she says firmly, trying to be calm, "You've got to tell us what happened."

I swallow, and take a shaky breath. I look into her wide eyes, and I smile. "Jasmine, he ate her. The little boy went insane, and he ate her. Now she's gone. Now we're all going to die."

Jasmine says slowly, "Who's gone, Naspa? Who was eaten?"

I take the leather tricorn off my head, and flip it onto the floor. "Arella Collins. Is dead. Eaten. Gone."

Jasmine draws in a sharp breath, and I hear Tork sit down heavily behind me. I trace a pattern on the office floor with my index finger, frowning. The more I think about it, the more this can't be real. Little girls don't get stabbed by shovels and eaten by toddlers in real life. I ponder the absurdity of this for a moment, and then I begin to laugh. I laugh, and I laugh, curling up in the floor as tears of mirth stream from my eyes. Jasmine, worried, reaches for my hand. I pull her down close to me. Still gasping with laughter, I whisper to her, "Kill me, Jasmine. Please. I want my reality back."

Tears in her eyes, Jasmine whispers, "This _is_ reality, Naspa."

I smile at her. "Not anymore."


End file.
